


Two Steps on the Water

by dharmaavocado



Series: Hounds of Love [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Background Anakin/Padme, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-17
Updated: 2019-02-17
Packaged: 2019-10-30 12:02:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17828177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dharmaavocado/pseuds/dharmaavocado
Summary: “There’s this thing tonight,” Skywalker said.“A thing, sir?” Rex asked blandly.The corner of Tano’s mouth twitched.  “A dinner party,” she corrected.Skywalker nodded.  “Pad—Senator Amidala is hosting it with Senator Kenobi.  There’s going to be quite a few senators and ambassadors attending.  Politics, you know.”In which there is a dinner party, politicians, literature, and an understanding.





	Two Steps on the Water

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from the Kate Bush song _Hounds of Love_ as is the series name.
> 
> The fic is based on the teapirate's art of [Senator Kenobi](https://teapirate.tumblr.com/post/176417690230), which is great and I obviously love a lot.
> 
> Also I'm taking a lot of liberties with the timeline here, so if you're expecting everything to match up and make sense, well, you'll be disappointed. But considering the show couldn't even manage it I'm not going to be too bothered.

Planning a system wide offense, Rex found, was less complicated than organizing Torrent’s leave. At least in war property damage was expected. 

“Don’t let them set anything on fire,” he said to Jesse and Appo, the three of them squeezed into the small office Rex had claimed through the expedient method of sitting behind the empty desk and refusing to leave; space was a premium in the barracks adjacent to the temple. “And make sure 79s is still standing.” 

“No promises on that last part,” Jesse said. 

“Just no repeats of last time,” Rex said. “I’ve run out of favors with Fox.” 

Appo snorted. “A night in the brig would do them good.” 

Rex didn’t bother arguing as he occasionally entertained the same thought. There was a perfunctory knock on the door before Skywalker stuck his head in. Rex could just make out the tips of Tano’s montrails over his shoulder. 

“There you are,” Skywalker said. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you, Rex. Got a minute?” 

“Yes, sir. We’re just finishing up here.” To Jesse and Appo, he said, “Keep Echo away from the technical manuals. If he tries to upgrade our comms one more time Gauge might finally succeed in killing him.” 

“I wouldn’t worry about that,” Jess said. “Fives is dragging him out. He won’t have time to download the latest update.” 

That raised an entirely new set of concerns, but for now it wasn’t Rex’s problem. “Again, just make sure nothing catches fire.” 

“Hey, come on, they’re not that bad,” Skywalker protested. 

Rex found himself sharing a commiserating look with Appo, who was one of the surliest sergeants he ever had the pleasure of serving with and held no illusions regarding Torrent’s antics. 

“I’ll keep the men in line,” Appo said. 

“See to it,” Rex said. “Dismissed.” 

With no small amount of amusement, Rex watched as Skywalker and Tano awkwardly shuffled around Jesse and Appo to squeeze into the space left behind. So much for Jedi dignity, Rex thought, as Appo, respectfully, just about lifted Anakin off his feet so he could get out the door. 

“You couldn’t get a bigger office?” Skywalker said once he and Tano had settled into chairs that wobbled alarmingly beneath them. 

“You could put in a request for me,” Rex said. Skywalker made a face; for a man who ran into free fire zones without getting a scratch it was bureaucracy that defeated him every time. “Did you need something, sirs?” 

“Huh? Oh, yeah.” Skywalker stopped trying to stabilize the chair using, Rex suspected, the Force. “There’s this thing tonight.” 

“A thing, sir?” Rex asked blandly. 

The corner of Tano’s mouth twitched. “A dinner party,” she corrected. 

Skywalker nodded. “Pad—Senator Amidala is hosting it with Senator Kenobi. There’s going to be quite a few senators and ambassadors attending. Politics, you know.” 

Rex did not know, but he found it best to generally agree while waiting for Skywalker to get to the point. 

“We’ve been invited,” Tano said. 

That wasn’t surprising. Skywalker and Amidala’s friendship was hardly a secret, although Rex did his best to tamp down on the speculation amongst the ranks to the exact nature of it. Amidala and Kenobi had taken a shine to Tano, who could benefit from a steadier hand in her diplomacy tutelage. Kenobi’s friendship with both Skywalker and Amidala, from what Rex had gathered, stretched all the way back to Naboo and the events preceding Skywalker joining the Jedi. Kenobi was certainly quite fond of all three of them now. 

“Well,” Tano added in that tone of voice that once ended with a R2 unit strapped to Rex’s chest like an errant cadet, “ _you’ve_ been invited.” 

Foreboding settling along his shoulders, Rex said, “Me, sir?” 

“You and Skyguy,” Tano confirmed, nearly gleeful. 

When Rex looked to him, Skywalker shrugged. “You know how politicians are. They’re going to want all the gritty details of how the war is going.” 

Rex had a terrible vision of spending a night in his dress uniform giving a carefully sanitized account of the latest offense to politicians who never held a blaster much less watched their brothers be shot down around them. “With all due respect,” he said, “I'm sure there is another officer much better suited to this. Commander Cody, perhaps.” 

Skywalker gave him an unimpressed look. “You know he and Gallia are in Esstran sector.” 

Rex did, unfortunately, know that. “Commander Fox?” 

The unimpressed look intensified. Skywalker had a point. Fox was far surlier than even Appo, and Rex tried to picture him interacting with any of the senators for longer than five minutes and gave up with a wince at the thought of the veiled insults that were sure to fly. 

“Then I suggest Commander Tano, sir,” he said. “She’s far more diplomatic than me, and it would be a good opportunity to strengthen the GAR’s relationship with the senate.” 

“I'm afraid I can’t,” she said, her regretful tone at odds with the deeply betrayed look she shot him. “Barriss and I have important business tonight we simply cannot reschedule.” 

“And what would that be, sir, if you don’t mind me asking?” 

She waved a dismissive hand. “You know, Jedi business.” 

Rex solemnly nodded his head. “Urgent meditation, I assume.” 

“We take communing with the Force very seriously,” she answered, just as solemn. 

“I would never suggest disrupting that connection, sir,” Rex said, and Tano only barely manage to stifle a smile. 

Skywalker sighed. “Have I mentioned how glad I am you two get along now?” 

“On a daily basis, sir,” said Rex. 

“Don’t sulk,” Tano said, kicking Skywalker in the ankle. “You’re just jealous I like Rex more than you.” 

“I thought you didn’t play favorites,” said Skywalker. 

“You’re thinking of me, sir,” Rex said. “I respect you both equally.” 

Tano leaned forward, elbows propped on the desk. “Yeah, but you _like_ me more.” 

Rex raised an eyebrow, which Tano clearly took as confirmation as she turned a smug smile on Skywalker. 

Skywalker rolled his eyes. “I don’t like either one of you.” 

“Don’t lie,” Tano said. “We’re your favorites.” 

“You’re really not. My actual favorites wouldn’t try so hard to get out of this.” Before he or Tano could call him on his blatant lie, Skywalker added, “Look, Rex, I'm not going to pretend this is going to be fun, but Obi-Wan did ask for you personally.” 

Damn. 

“Hey, aren’t you and him friends?” Tano added, far too innocent to be genuine. “You seemed close after Christophsis. He’s always sending you messages and you saw him last time we had leave.” 

The high collar of his blacks hid the flush creeping up the back of his neck. “I hold great respect for the senator,” Rex answered. 

“I'm sure you do,” Tano said with just enough of a suggestive tone she could only have picked up from Hardcase. 

Skywalker jabbed a pointed elbow into Tano’s side. “Then that settles it. You’re with me tonight, Rex.” 

“Yes, sir,” Rex said, resigned. He could at least take pleasure in witnessing Skywalker tripping over Tano on their way out. 

* * *

His dress uniform, once fitted, hung loose about his shoulders and waist. Torrent, to a man, had lost weight and muscle mass following Mygeeto when their supply line had been cut off and they all gone on restricted rations. When reinforcements broke through the blockade, Kix had put them on a calorie heavy diet, but he had yet to gain back what he lost. 

He tightened the belt and straightened his captain bars on his collar. He had, embarrassingly enough, been forced to borrow them from a member of the Coruscant Guard. His were lost on some backwater moon in the Outer Rim. Not that he had any use for the formal marking of his commission out in the killing fields. There his _jaig eyes_ were all the signifier needed. 

Rex placed the cap on his head and stepped out into the hall where he was met by Fives’ smirk. 

“Hey, Captain,” Fives drawled. “You’re looking good. Isn’t he looking good, Echo?” 

From under the arm Fives had draped across his shoulders, Echo said, “I’m not part of this.” 

“He is looking _very_ good,” Hardcase agreed, leaning against Fives’ other side. “How is the senator?” 

“He’s fine,” Rex said, which was mistake. 

“Yeah, he is,” Hardcase agreed with a horrifying waggle of his eyebrows. “What was in that last message he sent you?” 

The flush was back, climbing up his neck, but years of dealing with Hardcase meant Rex knew better than to show any weakness. He kept his gaze flat and unamused, which did little to deter him. 

Behind them, Jesse, trailed by Kix, sighed and said, “Sorry about them, sir. You know how they get before a night out.” 

They had all forgone their armor in favor of their blacks, although Fives had swiped one of the caps from the bridge crew and wore it at a jaunty angle. Echo eyed it with distaste, and Rex wondered how long before it was lost on their way to 79s. 

“Aw, come on,” Hardcase said as Jesse hooked an arm around his neck and started dragging him away. “I'm just trying to show an interest in Rex’s personal life.” 

“He doesn’t have a personal life,” said Jesse, which was only mildly insulting. “You know that.” 

“Just go,” Rex said, “before I change my mind and revoke your passes.” 

Echo held up a hand. “I respectfully remind you I'm still not a part of this.” 

“You’re the best part,” Fives said. 

“What does that even mean?” Echo asked, but the answer was lost as Jesse herded them away. 

Kix lingered, and Rex said, “Do you need something?” 

“Give Senator Kenobi my regards.” Kix pressed a small package into his hands. “And remember to be safe.” 

“Safe?” He read the discreet lettering on the package, and the flush conquered his face. “Oh.” 

“Have a nice night, sir,” Kix said. 

Kix passed Skywalker, who took one look at Rex’s face and said, “You all right, Rex?” 

Rex shoved the package into his pocket. “Fine, sir. Are you ready?” 

“I'm just waiting on you.” 

They took Skywalker’s personal speeder. Within minutes Rex’s fingers went numb from clutching the seat. Skywalker took Coruscant’s snarled traffic as a challenge. 

“I can hear you praying over there,” Skywalker said cheerfully as he zipped through an opening barely wider than their speeder. Rex made horrified eye contact with the other driver. 

“I don’t have any gods, sir,” Rex said, and then squeezed his eyes shut as their speeder, and consequently his stomach, dropped below a gridlocked intersection. 

“Aw, come on,” Skywalker said as he proceeded to pull them into a steep climb just to prove he could. “You’re never this bad when we’re in an actual firefight.” 

“It’s situational, sir,” Rex said, opening one eye to see if they were in imminent danger of crashing. They weren’t, which did little to reassure him. “Your unorthodox methods are only useful when we’re being actively shot at.” 

Skywalker laughed. “You’re just as bad as Obi-Wan. Did I tell you about the time he decided I needed to learn to drive a speeder?” 

“Did it end in regret and something on fire?” There was a loud shout and Rex turned to give the woman Skywalker cut off an apologetic look as they swooped by. 

“You’re in a mood tonight,” Skywalker said, delighted as he always was when Rex indulged him. “It didn’t, but he did send a strongly worded letter to the council about how my skills should be nurtured in a more constructive manner.” 

That would be something he would do, and Rex was so distracted by the thought he barely noticed when Skywalker brought them to a neat stop at the landing pad to Kenobi’s apartments. 

“We’re here,” Skywalker said. “You can relax. I didn’t crash us.” 

“And I'm very grateful for that, sir.” Rex climbed out on legs that barely shook. 

While Skywalker reluctantly handed the speeder off to the droid valet, Rex nodded to the two guards on duty. There had been no direct attacks on Coruscant, not yet, but Fox took his duty seriously. There would be more brothers stationed along the perimeter, tracking all the guests. Rex didn’t expect any violence beyond a few cutting phrases and perhaps a thrown drink or two, but it settled him to know that Obi-Wan was not unprotected. 

“Don’t look so tragic,” Skywalker said, clapping him on the shoulder. “There are worse ways to spend a night than drinking nice wine and eating good food.” 

“With all due respect, sir, I feel you’re deliberately forgetting the part where the wine and food come along with a dozen politicians.” 

“True.” Skywalker steered him to the door. “But don’t tell me you’re not looking forward to seeing Obi-Wan again.” 

Rex, in the face of Skywalker’s suggestive eyebrows, chose not to answer, instead reflexively checking the exits as they entered the party. Obi-Wan’s apartments were on the topmost floor of the building, and the southern windows caught the setting sun, painting the entire room in red and gold. 

Coruscant was beautiful from this height in the same way the oceans of Kamino were. But like the oceans, Coruscant’s depths were dark and forbidding, and those who lived below worried those on the surface, and the surface was not any kinder than the depths. 

“Easy, Rex,” Skywalker murmured. “We’re among friends here.” 

Rex clasped his hands behind his back. “I seem to recall you mentioning politicians couldn’t be trusted.” 

“Have I also mentioned you have a very inconvenient memory?” 

“Only whenever I prove you wrong, sir.” 

Skywalker made a face, but his retort was swallowed by R4-P17’s excited trilling as she raced towards them, affectionately ramming into Rex’s knees. 

“Hello,” he said, running a fond hand along her dome. 

She let out a series of whistles— _you’re here, you’re here, he’s been fretting all day even though I_ told _him you’d come—_ and ignored all of Skywalker’s attempts to get her attention, which left him put out, as he was usually any droid’s favorite organic in the room. A position Skywalker held, Rex privately believed, due solely to R2’s highly editorialized accounts of his exploits. 

Rex’s working knowledge of binary was rudimentary at best, limited mainly to R2’s favorite profanities, but R4 had been diligent in expanding his vocabulary, and he could follow a conversation now, provided she didn’t get too excited and speak too fast for him to parse. Her litany now consisted of her lamenting Obi-Wan’s diet of tea and sleeping habits, too much of the former and too little of the latter, and her chastisement for Rex’s last message, which did not do enough to reassure her that he hadn’t gotten himself killed on Mygeeto. She’d seen the casualty list and didn’t trust Skywalker to formulate a viable plan. Besides, Rex was too loyal for his own good, and she hadn’t been there to steer him right. 

“I can look after myself,” he said. Her worry for him was endearing, not that he would admit it. She didn’t need the encouragement. “And I'm fine.” 

She let out a sharp buzz, her version of Cody’s derisive snort. She was quite aware of how shifty he could be about his health. She talked to Kix. She knew all about Saleucami. She would only believe he was fine when she could verify it with her own sensors. 

“Well, go on, then.” He spread his arms. 

She trilled and rocked back in offense. Rex barely stifled a smile. Scanning someone was impolite and not done, and she was trying very hard to play nice tonight. Obi-Wan had enough to worry about with her adding a social faux pas to his already overburdened shoulders. 

“I missed you, too,” he finally said, and rapped his knuckles along her dome. He became aware of Skywalker’s stare. “Something wrong, sir?” 

Skywalker shook his head. “I didn’t know you understood binary.” 

He shrugged. “Some. R4’s a good teacher.” 

It was impossible for her to puff up with pride, but she managed it all the same. 

“Where is your master?” Skywalker asked her, still oddly bemused. 

“Senator Aca cornered him and Bail with questions regarding the budget proposal,” Amidala said, neatly side stepping around various politicians on her way over. Her hair was piled artfully on top of her head and the gown she wore was a burnished red that flowed with every step. 

Rex held Skywalker in the highest regard, and so while he would not necessarily describe the way Skywalker’s face softened, as per R4’s words, as stupid and obvious, he could not truthfully say it was inaccurate. 

“They were still debating when I left them,” she added with a wry smile that meant that Aca had realized his mistake. “I'm so glad you could make it tonight. Especially you, Rex. I thought you might have other duties to attend to.” 

“He certainly tried to find some,” Skywalker said. 

“I was going to requisition our supplies,” Rex said, “but given my presence was required I left the various forms for you and Commander Tano to complete tomorrow.” 

Amidala pressed a hand to her mouth to hide her smile at Skywalker’s disgruntled frown. “I’ve missed you.” She rose on her toes to press a kiss to his cheek. Rex awkwardly leaned down to make it easier for her, and into his ear she whispered, “Thank you for bringing him back safely.” 

“Senator,” he said, aware of the flush climbing up his neck and the amused quirk to Skywalker’s eyebrow. “Thank you for the invitation.” 

She smoothed a loose bit of hair back into place. “I'm afraid I can’t take the credit. This is all Obi-Wan’s idea.” 

That did nothing to soothe his uneasiness. He knew all about the kind of ideas Obi-Wan had. 

From the kitchen drifted the distinctive sound of a dropped plate cracking against tile. Amidala sighed. “I need to take care of that.” 

“You want some help?” Skywalker asked. 

“I won’t say no if you’re offering.” She glanced to him. “Do you mind if I borrow him?” 

“No,” said Rex, who knew the futility of trying to separate them. “It saves me the effort of keeping him out of trouble.” 

“Where has all this backtalk come from?” Skywalker said. “Is this Ahsoka’s influence? You’re better than this.” 

Rex really wasn’t, but it was helpful that Skywalker believed him to be. 

“I’ll make sure he gets back to you in one piece,” Amidala promised. 

Skywalker clapped him on his shoulder. “Have a drink and relax.” 

“Yes, sir,” Rex said, although he planned to do neither. 

As Skywalker followed Amidala to the kitchen, R4 sadly lamented their lack of subterfuge. Rex couldn’t argue with that, not when he caught sight of Skywalker’s hand sliding to the small of Amidala’s back right before the door slid closed and blocked them from view. 

“Natural borns,” he muttered quietly. “They don’t even try to hide their feelings.” 

R4’s dome slowly, and with an astonishing amount of judgment given she had no recognizable facial features, turned on him. 

Rex’s face grew hot, and he said, “That’s different.” 

Ignoring R4’s disbelieving trill, he took stock of the party, the different groups that drifted together and then broke apart, reforming with different members. A bar had been erected along the western wall, but Rex’s knowledge of liquor was confined to the rotgut Hardcase didn’t brew so much as nurture like a child and whatever bottle Cody picked up at the last port. He knew better than to let slip this gap in his knowledge and thus confirm any of the biases against clones, and it wasn’t worth the risk of the alcohol loosening his tongue even if he did want a drink to make the night easier to bear. 

R4, as if sensing his thoughts, beeped cheerfully and prodded him in the ankle. Rex obediently followed as she wove through the crowd, aware of the looks he drew, some curious and some not. He was not the first clone these politicians had met—there was Fox and the Coruscant Guard—but perhaps he was the first they encountered in one of their social gatherings. It made no difference to him. When the night was over he would return to the barracks and regale his brothers with stories of how these natural borns lived. 

R4 had noticed, and her trills and chirps took on a sharp edge, and those who did not step out of her way quick enough were in danger of having their toes run over. She gave the impression of a loth cat ready to claw anyone who so much as glanced at her kit wrong. Rex could look after himself, and he would have anyone else’s head for trying this same thing, including Skywalker and Obi-Wan, but in R4 it was oddly sweet. They were both outsiders, after all, and had to look out for one another. 

Proudly and with a dramatic flourish she could have only picked up from Obi-Wan, she spun in a tight curve before a large bookcase, one of several that Obi-Wan had lining the walls and tucked into every third corner. This one, from what he could see, contained histories. 

“You remembered,” he said, running gentle fingers along the spines. 

Of course she remembered. Books were better than the restricted holonet he had access to, and Obi-Wan had one of the best collections in the system. 

“Thank you,” he said, and picked one whose cover was 501st blue. 

He was nearly finished with the first chapter when someone delicately cleared their throat. Rex was too controlled to visibly jump, but he was startled nonetheless. Idiot, he chastised himself even as R4 buzzed a soft snicker. This wasn’t a safe place to lower his guard, even for a proper book. 

“My apologies for intruding,” Senator Chuchi said. She wore white and her hair was carefully coiled and pinned in place. She held a glass in each hand. “He has one of the finest collections I’ve seen.” 

“He does,” Rex agreed, slipping the history back into place. 

She offered him the glass in her right hand. “From our host, with his apologies. He’s still arguing with Aca.” 

“I thought it was a debate.” He accepted the glass. 

She gave him an amused look. “That is the polite fiction they’re maintaining, yes.” 

Rex would drink to that, and he touched his glass to hers. He trusted Obi-Wan’s choice, and was not disappointed; it was tart but not sour, and not so strong that Rex had to worry about the alcohol muddling his senses. 

“I'm glad to see you again,” Chuchi said, taking a sip of her own drink, which was a delicate shade of purple with some kind of white fruit hooked on the rim. “I wasn’t sure when you would be returning to Coruscant.” 

Torrent should have received their leave months back, but they were too valuable to rotate off the front lines for long. Rex had long since given up on trying to calculate when they would be granted a reprieve. 

Chuchi fiddled with the fruit before asking, nearly shy, “How is Ahsoka? I was hoping to see her tonight.” 

“She had Jedi business,” Rex answered. 

Chuchi must have rightfully translated that because she smiled and said, “How convenient.” 

“You know the Jedi. They always have important matters to attend to.” 

“Especially when it happens to coincide with something they’d rather not do,” Chuchi agreed. 

“The Force provides,” Rex said, letting a touch of irony slip into his voice. 

Chuchi laughed at that. She was not the same as how he remembered from Orto Plutonia, when they stood in thigh deep snow with the cold seeping through all their insulated layers. She had been meek then, cowed by sharp edge of the Chairman’s tongue. Now she seemed settled, sure of herself in the same way brothers were when their armor lost its shine. She had become someone he would want at his back. 

And with that thought came a terrible suspicion. “Did Ob—Kenobi send you to babysit me?” 

“Actually I think he wanted you to babysit me,” she answered, unbothered. “I'm still new at this and I don’t have the ease he does with, well, anyone, really.” 

“Not many people do,” he said, because he had witnessed Obi-Wan, blood in his hair with at least two broken ribs, sit in the middle of a ruined city as if he were taking tea at the finest restaurant Coruscant had to offer. 

Chuchi tilted her head in acknowledgment of the point and then, with a practiced smoothness that marked her as a politician, changed the subject to what he had been reading. It was nice, he supposed, to discuss various books, even if he was ignorant of the myriad genres available. Chuchi made several recommendations and suggestions, and judging by R4’s quiet beeps, Rex expected to return to the barracks and find his personal pad already filled with the various downloads, neatly organized into their corresponding folders. 

Rex had nearly forgotten to be on guard right up until a senator said, “So it’s true. He did invite a clone.” 

Chuchi stiffened while R4 trembled, as if she was reminding herself it would be impolite to pull out her electrical prod. 

“Senator Senka,” Chuchi said. “I was unaware you would be attending tonight.” 

Senka was human who would almost come to Rex’s chin if he straightened to his full height, with stark black bars tattooed on his cheeks. His eyes were deep set and calculating as he took in Rex. “A cancellation freed up my schedule.” Senka’s gaze remained trained on him, and Rex kept his expression bland and professional. “And who are you?” 

“Captain Rex,” he answered, “of the 501st.” 

Senka’s eyebrows climbed. “The Republic’s Fist.” 

Rex didn’t blink. He had heard the whispers that followed them, of what they did, of what they were capable of doing. Some of the men took pride in the title, as they were very good soldiers, but it made Rex uneasy, because what they were good at was killing on command. A brother in intelligence once let slip that the Seps used Torrent as a barometer to determine where the GAR’s next strike was aimed as they were always sent to where the fighting was the worst. And the Republic knew better than the enemy what Rex and his brothers were. 

But there was no respect or even wariness in Senka’s voice. Instead Rex found only disappointment, as if Senka measured them against some private rubric and found them wanting. 

“I’ve heard us called that,” Rex said. He tucked the hand not holding his drink behind his back to hide the clench of his fist. 

Senka swirled his drink. Rex suspected it was some kind of whiskey, given its coloring and the smell. “And yet you lost Vintrus.” 

R4 gave a sharp whistle and Senka flicked a look her way, dismissive. Rex shifted so his leg pressed against her side; she subsided. 

“We did,” Rex said. 

Vintrus was a small moon, rich enough in various minerals to attract a mining company and a subsequent outpost and nothing else. The only inhabitants were miners and their families, and if it hadn’t been positioned perfectly as a link in the supply chain to the Seps in the Mid Rim, no one would have bothered with it. 

The 214th had been stationed there for months with no reinforcements and next to nothing making it through the blockade. By the time Torrent managed to punch through to bolster their line, those left alive were half-mad from the mud and the artillery strikes and the nightly raids, and yet those brothers still stood and fought and died as the civilians were evacuated. Some were buried, but most were left to rot where they fell as the moon was abandoned. One of Rex’s batchmates had died somewhere down in that mud, and Rex saw that what remained of the 214 th was absorbed into the 327th under Bly. 

“And now my entire sector is threatened because of your failure.” Senka’s smile was thin and sharp. “I expected more from the Republic’s Fist.” 

Ah, Rex realized, that explained it. Senka was the senator for Manda, which consisted of several moons and at least one habitable planet. It was perhaps not the richest system, but its main export was grain and wheat, which the Republic needed during war. 

Before Rex could respond, a derisive snort drew their attention to a passing older Rodian. “I bet you did,” she said. She wore all black and had been ignoring all the other guests until Senka’s remark. Her glass was full of a clear liquid, and Rex got the impression she was holding it more for something to do with her hands than any interest in the contents. “Captain Rex, a question, if I may.” 

“Ma’am,” Rex said. 

“How long was the company stationed on Vintrus?” she asked. 

“Nine months.” 

She nodded. “And how long was the blockade in place?” 

“Four,” he answered, seeing the shape her questions were taking. 

“And that was how long the Separatists were attempting to claim Vintrus?” 

Before he could answer, Senka said, “What is the point to all of this?” 

Rodians could not smile, at least not in the same way that humans did, but Rex could see the sharp edge of it on the corners of her mouth. “Two more questions, Captain, if you will indulge me. When Republic supplies are unable to reach the men on the line, the ruling system steps in to ensure there is no deficit, correct?” 

“Yes, ma’am,” he answered. Chuchi, too, must have seen the play the Rodian was making, because Cody would have been envious of how professionally polite her expression had gone. 

“And did Manda send food and water to the line?” 

“No.” 

Senator Senka stiffened, mouth thinning. “I don’t care for your insinuations.” 

“Was I insinuating something?” she said. “My apologies. Let me be direct. You were content for those men to die as long as it didn’t inconvenience you.” 

“I have my people to think of,” he said. “It’s my duty to see they don’t go without.” 

“Judging by your exports, you were in no danger of that.” She turned her glass so that it caught the light. “But if you do require aid you only need to ask. I'm sure we can spare some for you.” 

Senka’s tattoos were stark against his skin, gone pale with fury, although Rex found natural borns’ emotions to be curious and baffling things. “It is the Republic’s responsibility to feed its army.” 

“We are the Republic, and we do.” Without taking her gaze from him, she called, “Kenobi, come settle something for us.” 

Rex looked over her shoulder to where Obi-Wan, having caught sight of their group, was swiftly moving towards them, his blue coat swirling about his ankles like he was one of those heroes in those old holovids Tano loved. If Rex didn’t know better he would say Obi-Wan looked deeply alarmed. 

“Ah, Efemena,” Obi-Wan said. “I'm glad to see you were able to attend after all. 

“Oh, I'm sure you are,” Efemena said. 

“What argument am I settling?” An errant bit of hair curled along his forehead, and Obi-Wan absently brushed it back into place. 

“Stewjon provides supplies for the army, correct? Food, fresh water, medical aid, that sort of thing.” 

“Of course,” he said, gaze flicking around their small group. “We even have a few companies embedded within the army. Mainly in a support capacity, but we hope to expand their roles in the upcoming year. I believe it’s the same for Pantora as well?” 

Chuchi nodded. “We supplement the supplies to any battalion serving without our borders. Our manpower is limited to medical staff for now, I'm afraid. I know the Chairman is introducing legislation regarding any martial aid we may offer.” 

Senka had fallen silent, expression looking like it was molded from plastoid from how rigid it gone. Rex was nearly sympathetic for his plight; he knew how it felt to be so completely and neatly trapped. 

“Thank you, Kenobi,” Efemen said, and handed him her glass. Obi-Wan took it, bemused. “If I remember the report correctly, all of your people made it safely off the moon, and yet you couldn’t spare a single liter of water for those who died defending them. Perhaps you can at least spare some respect.” 

Senator Senka, the center of an expanding ring of silence, said, stiff and wooden, “I am appreciative for your service, Captain.” 

“Thank you, sir,” he said, because, unlike Cody or Obi-Wan, he at least knew the benefits of not actively being an asshole. 

“Senka, I believe the Maslan ambassador was looking for you,” Obi-Wan said. 

White faced and furious, Senka took his leave. 

“Well,” Obi-Wan said once he was gone, “your support was unexpected but appreciated.” 

“I didn’t do it for you,” Efemena said, casting a dismissive look to Obi-Wan. “Senka and his lot have always been obstructionist bastards who think the normal rules of decency don’t apply to them.” Her gaze turned to him, and Rex found himself straightening under it. “Where do you have us sitting?” 

Obi-Wan’s eyebrow rose. “I have you next to Sura and Captain Rex with Senator Organa.” 

“That won’t do. The Captain will sit next to me. Move Organa next to Sura. She needs more convincing of the righteousness of your cause.” There was an ironic edge to _righteousness_ that Rex was sure was meant to draw a rise from Obi-Wan. 

But Obi-Wan just said, “I'm afraid I don’t follow.” 

Efemena snorted. “I think you do.” To Rex, she said, “I look forward to our dinner conversation.” 

With little options offered, Rex chose the route of least resistance and said, “Of course, Senator.” 

“You may call me Efe.” And then she took her glass back from Kenobi and headed towards the dining room, cutting a straight path through the crowd, which parted hurriedly before her. 

“Well,” Obi-Wan said in the silence that poured into her wake, “it appears she likes you, Captain.” 

“She doesn’t let just anyone call her Efe,” Chuchi added. “Certainly not Obi-Wan.” 

Obi-Wan grimaced. “I'm afraid she and I do not always agree on certain topics.” 

That was a polite understatement, judging by the face Chuchi made, which made Rex more inclined to like Efemena. There were very few people who were not taken in by Obi-Wan’s aggressive charm. 

Obi-Wan’s smile went genuine. “I am glad you could join us tonight.” 

“General Skywalker insisted,” Rex said. And then, because he was not as immune to Obi-Wan as Efemena was, he added, “And it’s not often I get an invitation to something like this. Seemed a shame to turn it down.” 

Obi-Wan looked pleased, which meant he translated Rex’s words correctly. “Then we are very lucky tonight.” 

Chuchi delicately cleared her throat while R4 grumbled, and Rex wrenched his gaze away from Obi-Wan. “I think dinner is about to begin,” she said. 

“Ah, yes, of course.” Obi-Wan seemed to shake himself. “My apologies. I'm being a poor host this evening. Let me make amends.” 

Not trusting himself to speak, Rex followed Obi-Wan and the other guests to the main dining room where the table was immaculately set with place cards resting next to each plate and the wait staff unobtrusively lining the wall. Efemena must have already switched the cards, for she was in her seat and waiting impatiently for everyone else to join. 

“Good luck,” Obi-Wan murmured, and went to take his place towards the head of the table. 

Rex took the seat next to Efemena, relieved when Chuchi sat across from him. A Bothan sat on his right and made no effort to acknowledge either of xir’s neighbors. 

“Never been a fan of these things,” Efemena said, giving the various forks and tiny spoons a disdainful glare. “There’s too much politicking and double talk. No one can be bothered to say what they mean. Especially that one.” Even without the sharp gesture to Obi-Wan, it was obvious who she meant. “And the food is always terrible.” 

The first course was set out under R4’s strict supervision. She gave an apologetic whistle as she passed him before continuing her circuit, ensuring every guest was properly served. The dish was a type of cold soup, and Rex cautiously prodded it with one of the many spoons. It was thick and a pale green and slightly more palatable than field rations, but then again certain types of algae were better than the rations they were given. 

His Bothan neighbor made a delighted sound. “ _Le’esh_ ,” xe said. “I haven’t had this since I came to Coruscant. Where did you get this?” 

“I’ll make sure to give you the name of the caterer,” Obi-Wan said. Rex noticed that he had yet to try any of the _le’esh_. 

“The next course will be better,” Efemena said. She hadn’t bothered to pick up her spoon. “Rex, was it?” 

“Yes, ma’am.” 

“I told you to call me Efe. How long are you on Coruscant for?” 

“A week.” 

“Hm, that’s a short timeline he’s working on.” The words were directed more towards herself than him. 

Rex looked to Chuchi, who shrugged before being drawn into a conversation with a Zabrak dressed in gold. 

The soup was taken away and the next course brought in. It was various brightly colored berries topped with cream. 

“This is better.” She speared a red one. “I will say this much for Kenobi—he goes all in.” 

“He does,” Rex agreed, although she didn’t make it seem like much of a compliment. 

“How do you know him?” 

The orange berries were tart, but the purple were sweet, and he carefully picked those out. “He was sent to Christophsis to negotiate a cease fire. My company was assigned to protection detail.” 

She snorted. “I doubt he made it easy.” 

“He didn’t.” 

Rex dealt with Skywalker and Tano on a daily basis, but even they couldn’t prepare him for how stubborn Obi-Wan was. He refused to stay behind the shield or even allow Hardcase to keep him from the worst of it. 

“My job,” Obi-Wan had said, blaster in one hand and blood caked along his cheek and brow, nearly invisible in the fall of his copper hair, “is to put a stop to this madness, and I can’t do that hidden away. So, Captain, if you would be so kind as to lead the way, the sooner we begin the sooner we finish and you can rest.” 

Then before Rex could draw breath to argue, Obi-Wan had taken point from Jesse and would have gotten his damned fool head blown off from a sniper if he hadn’t such good reflexes. Rex had been left with no choice but to bring him along further into the gutted city if only make sure he didn’t get himself killed. 

“I know how obnoxious he can be,” Efemena said, thoughtful. “It seems you’re quite good at your job.” 

“Thank you,” he said for lack of anything better. 

She kept her peace through the rest of the course and halfway through the next—a kind of salad made with vegetables Rex didn’t recognize but were crisp and fresh—before saying, “How’s the new armor treating you? Holding up well? Any major problems?” 

“No, it’s fine,” he said, confused by the subject change. 

“Only fine?” She looked annoyed. “What’s not working?” 

“Nothing.” At her raised brow, he added, “The new helmets have limited peripheral vision, and the HUD display is more crowded than the retired one.” 

Efemena hummed thoughtfully. “I’ll take a look at it.” 

He tried a bit of a blue root vegetable. “Why are you asking?” 

“My system won the contract to improve your armor.” 

“Won?” said the Zabrak in gold. She had been relatively quiet until then. Observing them, Rex realized. “If I remember correctly you demanded it. Threatened to pull out of the trade agreement unless you were granted the contract.” 

Rex kept his expression polite, but some curiosity must have shown, because Efemena sighed and pushed away her plate, elbows on the table. “Kaminoans are talented genetic engineers, obviously, but they’re shit at anything that’s not biological. I’ve seen the specs for the first gen armor. It’s sloppy. They never did proper field testing. The longer its used the less effective it is at blocking blaster bolts. Hell, any bit of moisture weakens the tensile strength of the damned thing. It’s a mistake not even a first year engineering student would have made. Sloppy, like I said.” She paused, and then, brow arched, added, “And I don’t trust those long necked bastards.” 

“Really, Efemena,” the Zabrak said while the Bothan snickered. 

Efemena shrugged. “Neither do you or you wouldn’t be here right now.” She pinned Rex with a hard look, gaze unreadable. “And not to be presumptuous, Captain, but I doubt you do either.” 

Rex set his fork down. He was aware of the gazes on him and the lull in conversation. Cody would have the right words for this, something to make them laugh and turn their attention to a less dangerous subject. But Cody was in Esstran, and Rex, like always, could only try his best. 

Picking each word carefully, he said, “They are very good geneticists, as you said.” 

Efemena laughed, seemingly genuinely pleased for the first time that evening. “Enough of the shop talk. I saw you eyeing our host’s bookshelf earlier. Tell me, Captain, have you read any cyclical histories?” 

Before Rex could answer, the Bothan made a low noise and said, “Don’t listen to her. Those are terrible. You’d be better off with some Gungan detective novels.” 

“Gungans write mysteries?” Rex asked, intrigued despite himself. 

“They _attempt_ to write them,” the Zabrak said. “What are your feelings about romances?” 

“I don’t have any one way or another,” Rex said, “but I haven’t read many.” 

“You can’t just give him romances and nothing else,” said a senator further down the table. Rex hadn’t even realized xe’d been listening in. “He needs something more literary.” 

“Romances _are_ literary,” the Zabrak retorted. 

Sensing a potential argument, Rex said, “Perhaps you can both give me recommendations.” 

If he had known the response this would have brought, Rex would have tried to clumsily steer the conversation in another direction. It seemed everyone had a strong opinion on what he should read, and soon the entire table was caught up in a debate regarding their favorite authors. It was a bit like being back in the mess on _The Resolute,_ a dozen friendly arguments overlapping as brothers leaned around one another to shout filthy insults at those seated at the far end of the table. There was less shouting here, but the insults were no less filthy. His Bothan neighbor was quite creative and would have won Hardcase’s admiration if he had been present. 

Even Skywalker was persuaded to join in with his own recommendations, although Rex had yet to see him read anything that wasn’t a technical manual. 

“When is the last time you read something that wasn’t an engineering journal?” Obi-Wan asked, echoing Rex’s thought. 

“I read that novel you told me about,” Skywalker said. “The one about, you know, war and stuff.” 

“Ah, yes, and stuff,” Obi-Wan said dryly, but Rex could hear the fondness under it. 

“You know what I meant,” Skywalker said, and it was only Amidala patting his arm that kept him from sulking. 

This wasn’t what Rex thought the evening would entail. He expected questions regarding the war and the casualties the army suffered, and dreaded the inevitable invasive ones about the clones themselves, not this meandering argument about the symbolic imagery of snow found in postmodern Pantoran literature. 

He glanced over once only to find Obi-Wan gazing back at him, a terrible tenderness lurking about his eyes. Rex raised his eyebrows, but Obi-Wan merely shook his head and turned back to his conversation with Amidala. 

By the time desert was served—a sweet cake with a citrus glaze, which R4 ensured he received a piece twice as large as everyone else—Efemena looked entirely too smug. 

“Did you plan this?” he asked quietly. 

“I have no idea what you’re referring to,” she answered, and gave him her slice. 

After desert was caf and tea, which they took in what Rex suspected Obi-Wan referred to as his drawing room. The guests split into smaller groups, expertly herded through the combined efforts of Obi-Wan and Amidala and Organa. Rex would have missed it if Efemena, who barely came to his shoulder, hadn’t snorted. 

“You have to admire the subtlety,” she said. Like him, she preferred to stay to the edges of the room where she could observe the guests. “There.” She pointed at three humans, one of whom was sent over to Chuchi and the Zabrak while the other two were seamlessly folded into Organa’s group. “Those three are holdouts. Kenobi’s softening them up.” 

Rex watched as the one with Chuchi nodded along thoughtfully, her gaze lighting on him for a moment, her brow furrowed, before Chuchi gently drew her attention away. 

“What are they discussing?” he asked, curious despite himself. 

“You, and your brothers.” She frowned into her cup. “They never put enough sugar in. Did you see where the—ah, there they are. Excuse me.” She chased down a passing waiter, leaving Rex alone. 

He didn’t remain so for long; R4 paused in her next pass to prod him in the ankle, beeping pointedly that she did not approve of his anti-social tendencies. It would do him good to mingle with the other guests, and she did not appreciate the look he was giving her. 

“Rex,” Amidala said as Rex, stumbling from a sharp jab to the back of his knee, joined her group. “Just who I was looking for. I was just telling everyone about what Fives and Echo got up to on Naboo.” 

Rex managed not to groan, but his exasperation must have slipped through because an older Mon Calamari patted his arm and said, “My lot were just as bad. Despite my best efforts they always snuck away to the depths with the rest of their school. Bad influence, all of them.” 

And then, so gently and carefully that Rex didn’t even notice until later, Amidala coaxed the stories out of him, of Fives’ enthusiastic forays into baking, of how Echo thought he knew better than Gauge when it came to their comms, how Jesse was Kix’s favorite and the only who could make him laugh. He told the senators and ambassadors that while he may not have an opinion about romance novels Cody definitely did, and how he retaliated against Wolffe for spoiling the endings. He even told them of the pieces of armor he carried of his batchmates—Keelie’s left greaves, Snow’s right handplate, and Cody’s vambrace, bits of 212th gold mixed in with the blue—all of them but Cody lost to him now. And he told them how Jesse still hadn’t forgiven Obi-Wan for besting him at target practice. 

“If I knew how upset he would have been, I would have let him win,” Obi-Wan said. He had joined Rex halfway through the story of how Hardcase taught himself to juggle using what they had all hoped were defective sonic grenades. 

“No, you wouldn’t have,” Rex said. “You’re too competitive.” 

Obi-Wan hid his smile behind his glass and didn’t argue. 

As Skywalker recounted the battle of Teth, Obi-Wan excused himself to see out the wait staff, who had finished clearing the table and disposing of the uneaten portion of the dinner. And then, that taken of, with a deftness and competency Rex couldn’t help but admire, Obi-Wan ushered out his guests one by one. 

“I have to admit,” Efemena said, when only she, Amidala, and Skywalker remained, “you played your hand well. You almost have enough votes to get it out of committee.” 

“I believe I have more than enough,” Obi-Wan said, solicitously holding out her coat for her. 

Efemena, unimpressed, allowed him to help her into it. “Count again. Sura is still on the fence, but have Organa meet with her tomorrow. She’ll flip. And get Chuchi to arrange a luncheon with her Zabrak friend. Her people have been dealing with the Trade Federation for years. You want to make sure she’s on your side.” 

“And you?” Obi-Wan asked. “Where do you stand in all of this?” 

“I hate Senka but I like your captain.” She straightened the collar of her coat. “You stand a better chance of pulling this off if you keep him around.” 

“That is the plan,” Obi-Wan said with a sincerity that made Rex’s flush creep back. 

Efemena barked out a sharp laugh, and to Rex said, “I’ll see what I can do about that HUD display. And have Chuchi schedule a meeting with me. Our parliament will want details regarding the Chairman’s newest legislation.” 

And then, spine straight and head up, she took her leave, nodding to the lieutenant assigned to escort her back to her own apartments. 

“Somebody doesn’t like you,” Skywalker said, grinning. 

“Efemena has always gone her own way,” Obi-Wan answered. 

“And that way is rarely the same path as Obi-Wan,” Amidala said. “It’s almost impossible to get on her good side.” 

“I guess congratulations are in order then, Rex,” Skywalker said. “You managed something Obi-Wan failed at.” 

“I didn’t do anything,” Rex said. 

Obi-Wan’s expression softened, and Rex became acutely aware of Skywalker watching them. “You did, Rex, and I'm grateful for it.” 

Rex folded his hands behind his back, falling into parade rest but unable to do anything else. There was so much about natural borns he had yet to understand. 

Amidala, as if sensing his unease, asked Obi-Wan, “Do you need help cleaning up?” 

“Hm? Oh, no. The catering staff took care of the worst of it, and I have cleaners coming tomorrow.” 

Skywalker made a show of looking around the apartment. “Are you sure? I don’t want to leave you with this mess.” 

“I assure you it isn’t anything I can’t handle.” Obi-Wan retrieved Amidala’s coat and helped her into it. Coruscant did not experience winter, not even the aborted one that Kamino did, but even its vast infrastructure was unable to hold off the night’s chill. 

Rex was dismayed to notice Skywalker had the look that meant he concocted what he that thought was a terribly clever plan, as if those didn’t end with Rex being thrown off a wall more often than not. Experience dictated that there was very little chance of talking him out of it, so Rex took the only option that was available, which was a preemptive strike. 

“If I may make a suggestion, sir,” he said. “I’ll stay here and assist Senator Kenobi while you escort Senator Amidala to her apartments.” 

Skywalker had the gall to make a show of considering the suggestion as if this hadn’t been his aim all along. “If you insist, Rex.” 

“I insist, sir,” he said dryly. 

Skywalker clapped him on the shoulder. “Then I’ll see you back at the barracks tomorrow. Better make it later in the afternoon. We are on leave after all.” 

“Yes, sir. Remember you still have to approve the supply requisitions and we need to discuss the incoming replacements.” 

“Good night, Rex,” Skywalker said, and pointedly closed the door behind him and Amidala. 

“Did he just _wink_ at us?” Obi-Wan asked. 

“Unfortunately.” 

R4 whistled, and Obi-Wan said, “I agree. They’re somehow becoming even less subtle. I don’t know how much longer I can claim not to know about their relationship.” 

“I can’t comment on that,” he said. “Plausible deniability.” 

“Ah, of course.” Obi-Wan ran a hand through his hair, leaving it mussed and curled, approachable. Rex didn’t understand how Obi-Wan managed it, untouchable one moment and than human the next, as if Senator Kenobi were a coat he could slide on and off at will. Now he was just Obi-Wan, and Rex fought the urge to put his hands on him, just to feel him be. “I do want to thank you.” 

Rex tucked that dangerous thought away. “For what?” 

“For coming tonight. I know you hate these kinds of affairs.” 

“I don’t hate them,” he said. 

Obi-Wan waved one hand. “Dislike, then. I would normally ask Cody to do it, but he’s currently in Esstran. My other option was Commander Fox, but I think we can both agree that would have been an unmitigated disaster.” 

“Why invite us at all?” 

“Because we need a reminder of the human cost of this war. It’s easy for us to forget who is doing the actual sacrificing in all this.” 

“Oh.” Rex swallowed as Obi-Wan closed the distance between them. “I'm glad to be of service.” 

“And I was being selfish.” Slowly, as if Obi-Wan were wary of startling him, he settled a hand along Rex’s waist. “I wanted to see you. I’ve missed you, Rex.” 

Unbidden, he gently touched his fingers to Obi-Wan’s jaw. “I’ve missed you, too.” 

Obi-Wan’s head tilted up. Rex thrummed at the quiet intimacy of it. “Well, in that case, now would be an ideal time to show me how much you’ve missed me.” 

Rex didn’t bother smothering his laugh. It only made Obi-Wan smile, pleased. “Has that line ever worked on anyone?” 

“I believe I'm about to find out.” 

Rex should prove him wrong, but he had missed Obi-Wan more than he thought was possible, and so he was powerless but to sway in and kiss him, as sweet as he knew how. He slid his hand to the back of Obi-Wan’s head to where his hair curled above his collar, and Obi-Wan sighed very gently and teased Rex’s mouth open. 

Rex always forgot how good it was, Obi-Wan’s mouth open under his, Obi-Wan pulling him close, hands fisted in his uniform jacket. The kiss deepened by degrees, unhurried, and Rex could spend the rest of his days like this, content and wanting for nothing. 

Obi-Wan drew back first, and said, “It worked.” 

Rex tugged at the high collar of his shirt. “You don’t have to sound so smug about it.” 

“Who’s sm— _oh.”_

__

Rex smiled against Obi-Wan’s throat, and sucked another kiss against that same spot, relishing the hitched breath that earned him. 

“That’s not playing fair,” Obi-Wan said, rucking up Rex’s jacket, trying to get to the skin underneath. “How many layers are you wearing?” 

“Three.” Rex placed a kiss to the corner of Obi-Wan’s frown. “I didn’t design it. Take it up with the senate if you hate it so much.” 

“Don’t think I won’t. Ah, there we are.” 

Rex shivered as Obi-Wan slipped his fingers under his shirt to trail along the small of his back. “Do you have a plan now you’ve figured it out?” 

Obi-Wan dropped his gaze to Rex’s mouth. “As a matter of fact, I do.” 

And just as Rex leaned back in, Obi-Wan yelped, jumping away from the sharp prod R4 jabbed in the back of his knee. 

R4’s whistle was high-pitched and scandalized, and Rex, reeling from Obi-Wan’s touch, couldn’t follow the tirade that followed. 

“We are not worse than Anakin and Padmé,” Obi-Wan snapped, glaring. “And this isn’t any of your business.” R4 beeped, indignant. “We are not doing this in front of your charging station. Your charging station is in the other room!” 

R4’s dome swiveled, and whatever she trilled next made Obi-Wan flush. “You may be right,” he said. 

She was always right, that much Rex understood, and affectionately prodded Obi-Wan again before trundling towards her charging station. Honestly, organics, she beeped back at them. 

“Do I want to know?” Rex asked. 

Obi-Wan cleared his throat. “She is of the opinion you deserve something nicer than, ah, up against the wall.” 

The flush charged up his neck and flooded his face. “I'm not opposed to up against the wall.” 

“I'm well aware.” Obi-Wan’s smile was sly as he leaned in for another kiss. “But that’s for another time. Now I would have you in bed. Or have you have me in bed, if you prefer.” 

Mouth gone dry, Rex could only nod. Obi-Wan smiled and led Rex towards his bedroom. R4 whistled at them as they passed. 

“Good night,” Obi-Wan said pointedly, and R4’s buzzing snicker was cut off by the bedroom door closing behind them. 

Rex had been in Obi-Wan’s room once before, and it was as he remembered it, large and airy and filled with Obi-Wan’s work. There was a precarious stack of pads next to the bed where the sheets were still rumpled, presumably from the morning. Obi-Wan’s clothes were strewn over a chair in the corner, and Rex counted at least three cups of abandoned tea. R4 was right about him drinking too much and sleeping too little. 

“How are there so many buttons?” Obi-Wan asked, fumbling with Rex’s jacket. 

“Here, let me.” He undid them quickly, folding the jacket neatly to place on top of the pile on the chair. He was halfway through stripping off his undershirt when he became of Obi-Wan sitting on the edge of the bed, watching him. “What?” he asked. 

“Nothing. I'm just enjoying the view.” 

Rex finished pulling off his shirt, embarrassed to find the flush had extended down his chest. Trying to ignore it and Obi-Wan’s eyes on him, he fumbled with his belt and then his zipper, cursing quietly when it stuck. 

Obi-Wan crossed to him. “Let me.” He gently eased the zipper down. “I didn’t mean to embarrass you.” 

“You didn’t.” He folded his pants and set them aside. He touched the hem of Obi-Wan’s shirt. “May I?” 

“Please,” Obi-Wan said, and instead of the expected teasing, Rex found only honesty. 

He helped Obi-Wan out of his clothes, although helped was perhaps inaccurate, not when he kept getting distracted by each new stretch of skin he was allowed to touch. He trailed his fingers along Obi-Wan ribs, which were whole and unbroken now, and towards the small of his back, Obi-Wan swaying into the touch 

“Come here,” Obi-Wan said, and gently pushed Rex back onto the bed and then further back onto the pillows. “What do you want?” 

“You,” Rex said. He palmed Obi-Wan’s hips as Obi-Wan knelt over him. 

“You have me.” Obi-Wan tucked two fingers of his chin, easing his head back. “So how do you want me?” 

“I don’t—” His breath caught at the first touch of Obi-Wan’s mouth to his throat. 

“Tell me.” Obi-Wan bit down gently on the tendon, and Rex rocked his hips up. “I’ll give you whatever you want, but you have to tell me.” 

“Your mouth,” he said. 

Obi-Wan surged back up and kissed him, fast and hard, licking into his mouth. Rex let Obi-Wan take whatever he wanted, trusting himself into Obi-Wan’s hands. 

“I'm going to make this good for you,” Obi-Wan promised. 

He always said that, ever since that first time against the wall, still half in their clothes and Rex breathless in the wake of Obi-Wan’s hands on him. 

“You never…?” Obi-Wan said, mouth a sweet ruin. 

Rex had shaken his head, orgasm leaving him unable to summon any embarrassment. 

Obi-Wan had kissed him again, soft but insistent, and said, “I'm going to make it good for you.” 

“You did,” Rex answered. 

“I can do better,” Obi-Wan had said, and pulled Rex to his bunk and to put truth to his words. 

“You always do,” he said now, groaning as Obi-Wan moved down his chest with quick bites that were just shy of too sharp. “Come on.” 

“Don’t rush me.” He dipped his tongue into Rex’s navel before sucking a kiss into the tender skin beneath it. “I'm enjoying myself.” 

“Then enjoy yourself a bit fast—what is it?” 

Obi-Wan stilled, fingers not quite touching the spider web of scar tissue above his right hip. “This is—you didn’t have this before. What happened?” 

“Shrapnel from a grenade, I think.” 

“You _think_?” 

Rex propped himself up on his elbows and looked down upon the crown of Obi-Wan’s head, unable to see Obi-Wan’s face. It wasn’t unusual for a stray bit of shrapnel to find a gap in the armor. If it was sharp enough and the brother unlucky enough it could sever an artery, and then there wasn’t much anyone could do to keep him from bleeding out. Rex had been lucky. 

“It wasn’t serious.” 

“It was serious enough to scar.” Obi-Wan’s touch was careful, as if he were afraid of causing pain even though it had been healed for months. 

“It wasn’t anything some bacta couldn’t take care of.” Rex brushed his hand though Obi-Wan’s hair. He didn’t know what the protocol was for this situation. “It’s fine, Obi-Wan. I'm fine.” 

“Yes, of course.” There was still an odd note to Obi-Wan’s voice, and Rex’s clumsy reassurance was cut off by the press of Obi-Wan’s mouth to the scar, soft and tender. Loving, Rex couldn’t help but think. Obi-Wan handled him as if he were worthy of such care. 

That was another dangerous thought, and so Rex said, “I thought you were enjoying yourself.” 

“I am.” Obi-Wan glanced up then, and if his gaze was heavier than before, he made up for it with the drag of his nails along Rex’s inner thigh. “And so are you.” 

That was all the warning Rex got before Obi-Wan swallowed him down. Rex dropped back onto the bed, hands fisted in the sheets as Obi-Wan’s mouth worked his prick. He may not have a basis of comparison, but Rex doubted there was anyone more perfect at this than Obi-Wan. 

“Fuck,” he said, and twisted one hand in Obi-Wan’s hair. Obi-Wan hummed in approval. __

__

It was nearly too much. It was almost always too much with Obi-Wan, and Rex wondered if everyone found sex like this, this overwhelming and awkward crash of desire and longing. He hoped it was the same for Obi-Wan, that he too felt as if would fly apart without Rex’s hands on him. 

“I need,” he gasped, tugging on Obi-Wan’s hair. “I need— _please.”_

__

Obi-Wan pulled off, mouth red and shameless, and said, “I know.” 

And that was how Rex came, pinned under Obi-Wan’s gaze as Obi-Wan stroked him through it, Rex’s hand still fisted tight in his hair. 

After, as he sucked in air, Obi-Wan mouthed leisurely at his hip, tongue trailing along the scar, gentling Rex in the aftermath. 

“Come here,” Rex said, and Obi-Wan followed the pull of his hand until he was kneeling back where he began, his prick hard and curving towards his stomach. Rex wanted to ruin him, and he began with Obi-Wan’s mouth, biting at his lower lip, thumbs pressed to the hinge of Obi-Wan’s jaw, urging him to open wider, to let Rex take whatever Obi-Wan would give him. 

“What do you want?” he asked. 

“I must confess a weakness for your hands,” Obi-Wan said, voice gone low and hoarse. 

“Do you want me to touch you?” Rex prodded, because this went both ways. 

_“Yes.”_

__

Rex took Obi-Wan in hand. It couldn’t be very good, his grip too dry and his palm too rough with blaster calluses, but Obi-Wan folded over him at the first stroke, a groan caught at the back of his throat. 

“Do you have anything?” he asked, mouth dragging along the arch of Obi-Wan’s cheek. “I want to make it good for you.” 

“You do,” Obi-Wan said turning his head to catch Rex’s mouth. “You make it—fuck—you make it— _Rex._ ” 

Rex twisted his wrist again, kissing the moan from Obi-Wan’s mouth. “Where is it? I know you have it. Get it for me.” 

He slid his hand to the small of Obi-Wan’s back as Ob-Wan leaned to the side, scrambling under a pillow to retrieve the tube of lubricant, and then slid his hand lower as Obi-Wan straightened. _Have you have me,_ Obi-Wan had said, and Rex wished that was true, that he could have Obi-Wan the same way Obi-Wan had him. 

Obi-Wan fumbled the top off and Rex paused in his work to squeeze some lubricant out. Obi-Wan sighed at the renewed touch, eyes gone dark. His hips pushed up, and he ran restless fingers along Rex’s neck. 

Rex was not inexperienced, at least not anymore, but he was unpracticed, and he didn’t want Obi-Wan to regret what they had, even if Obi-Wan entertained others while Rex was deployed. They made no promises to one another, but he wanted Obi-Wan to remember this, how Rex could make him feel. 

“I think about this,” Rex said as Obi-Wan rocked up into each stroke. “About you. Whenever I couldn’t sleep or when I thought I would—” He broke off as Obi-Wan ran his thumb along the divot below his bottom lip. “I would think of you.” 

“Rex,” Obi-Wan said, eyes dark and intent. “I need your mouth on me.” 

Rex obliged, sucking marks into Obi-Wan’s throat, right below what his high collars would hide. He dragged his mouth lower, biting at the freckles along Obi-Wan’s collarbones until, finally, he pressed a tender kiss to the hollow of Obi-Wan’s throat. 

“Oh,” Obi-Wan said, and came over his hand. 

Rex stroked him through it, easing off when Obi-Wan, over sensitized, made a soft noise. Obi-Wan tipped to the side, pulling Rex along with him. They lined themselves up, ankles, knees, chests, and kissed as their breathing slowed, and then they kissed some more even as sleep sunk its hook in, the kiss gone soft and clumsy. 

“Will you stay tonight?” Obi-Wan asked. He was half-asleep, a soft slur to the words. His hand covered the scar on Rex’s hip. 

Rex had no experience with this, this strange and tender bruise that wound about his ribs. He hadn’t spent the night last time, worried that word would get around of him and Obi-Wan, of the rumors that would plague Obi-Wan. But he had wanted to. He could admit it, at least to himself. He always wanted to stay. 

“Yes,” he said, hoping that was the right response. “I’ll stay.” 

It must have been because Obi-Wan said, “I’ll order us breakfast,” and then, making sure Rex was close, he tipped over into sleep. 

* * *

Careful not to disturb Obi-Wan, Rex rolled onto his back. He hadn’t slept, only managing a light doze at best as he tried to find a comfortable position. He was used to a firm mattress with no give, and Obi-Wan’s bed was too soft to offer much support for his back. 

Giving up on with a sigh, he gently eased Obi-Wan to the side, tucking the covers back around him. It was better to settle in with a cup of caf and a book from Obi-Wan’s library than risk waking Obi-Wan with his restless tossing. 

But he had only made it to the edge of the bed when Obi-Wan rolled into the spot he left behind and said, “Rex?” 

“Didn’t mean to wake you,” Rex said, soft. 

“What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing. Can’t sleep.” 

Obi-Wan blinked, coming fully awake. “Anything I can do?” 

“Bed’s too soft,” he admitted, feeling foolish for no reason. 

“I suppose it’s not what you’re used to.” Obi-Wan sat up, pushing a hand through the wild tangle of his hair. Rex had done that, twisted his fingers through it until it was ruined. He wanted to do it again. “Are you hungry?” 

“We just had dinner.” 

Obi-Wan folded the covers aside and stood, calling up the lights as he did so. “That hardly counts as real food. It’s all a political ploy. You’ll be amazed what favors you can gain by appealing to someone’s favorite childhood meal.” 

“That seems cynical.” 

Obi-Wan went to the chair and, carefully setting aside Rex’s uniform, dug through the pile. “That’s politics, I'm afraid. You use whatever advantage you can get. Ah, here it is.” He unearthed two robes, one of which he tossed at Rex’s head. “I am sorry for the _le’esh_ , though. It’s an acquired taste, to say the least.” 

The robe was not made of silk, as Rex half-expected it to be, but a soft cotton, something he would pick out for himself if given the option. He and Obi-Wan were near the same height and weight, although Rex tended to be broader across the shoulders, and so he was surprised the robe was a comfortable fit. It would have been on the larger side for Obi-Wan. 

“I liked the fruit thing,” Rex said. 

“I thought you might.” Obi-Wan looked pleased. “Unfortunately, there’s none left, but I believe I can find something you’ll enjoy.” 

“You don’t have to,” Rex said. 

“I want to.” 

Rex had no argument against that, and so there was nothing for it but to follow Obi-Wan to the kitchen. As they passed R4 in her charging station she beeped sleepily at them, her circuits glowing at quarter power as Obi-Wan murmured a quiet reassurance. She rocked slightly before settling back to low power mode. 

“R4 says I am not to give you food poisoning,” Obi-Wan said, fond. 

“I would appreciate it if you didn’t.” He winced at the brightness level of the automatic kitchen lights. 

Obi-Wan immediately lowered them. “You’re her favorite, if you couldn’t tell. I think you’ve even replaced me in her affections.” 

“Not possible,” he said, because R4 adored Obi-Wan. She even took on an entire droid squad for him, stupidly brave as she was, a trait she shared with Obi-Wan. 

“You did.” Obi-Wan pulled out one of the high stools tucked under the far counter. “I don’t blame her, of course. You’re my favorite as well.” 

The damned flush was back, but now Rex didn’t fight it. It wasn’t anything Obi-Wan hadn’t already seen. 

He took a seat as Obi-Wan dug through his refrigeration unit, setting his find in a row on the counter, eggs and vegetables and a loaf of bread like the kind they got from the locals on Ryloth. 

“Well,” Obi-Wan said, casting a critical eye over everything, “it’s not enough for a proper fry up, but I’ll manage.” 

“Do you need any help?” he asked, only for his offer to be waved away. 

Rex was content to watch Obi-Wan work. He was no stranger to food preparation—cadets did their fair share of mess duty on Kamino, and even now Rex wasn’t above assigning troopers to _The Resolute’s_ kitchen for various infractions—but this was different than the impersonal process of feeding an entire company of soldiers. This was softer. Intimate. Another dangerous thought in a night filled with them, but one Rex couldn’t stop settling warmly under his breastbone. 

“I didn’t know you could cook,” he said as Obi-Wan cracked several eggs into the bowl, whisking them quickly before pouring them into a hot pan. 

“My mothers insisted me and my sisters learned.” He selected a knife from the rack and began slicing the vegetables, several of which Rex was pretty sure had been served at dinner. “They wanted us to be self-sufficient. They had the right idea. You’d be surprised how many times I’ve been called upon to whip something up because it’s too late to get deliveries and no one else knows how to manage even a bacon sandwich.” The vegetables were added to the pan. 

“So you cook for everyone,” Rex said, disappointment souring in his stomach, although he had no right to feel that way. 

“This may surprise you, but some politicians never learned how to work a stove.” 

“You should find someone who can, then.” The words fell out of his mouth without his permission. “Cook for you, I mean.” 

“That’s not a skill most people look for in their senator.” Obi-Wan flipped the eggs. 

Rex shifted, uncomfortable. “I just meant if you’re spending the night with them.” 

“You mean those glamorous night spent arguing over obscure language in a bill that may never make it out of committee? I suppose the least Padmé can do is offer to make me breakfast for that headache.” 

Leave it, he told himself. Just leave it. But to his horror Rex found himself saying, “I meant the ones you see socially.” 

Obi-Wan frowned, confused. “Do you mean Satine or Ba— _oh_.” The confusion gave way to horrible understanding. “Oh, Rex.” 

The silence stretched thin between them, and Rex, who had lived through thirty-six straight hours of shelling without cracking, couldn’t bear it. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” he said. “It’s none of my business.” 

Obi-Wan set aside the knife. “That’s not true. You’re in this relationship, too.” 

“Relationship?” he said, surprised. 

Obi-Wan stared blankly into the distance and said, “Anakin was right. He’s never going to let me live this down.” 

“What does he have to do with this?” he asked. And then, horrified, “You and he aren’t—” 

“What? _No.”_ Obi-Wan pinched the bridge of his nose. “Why would you even think that?” 

“You brought him up,” Rex snapped. “How am I supposed to know who else you’re sleeping with?” 

“I'm not sleeping with anyone else! I only want you!” 

“Oh.” 

“Yes,” Obi-Wan said, tart, “oh.” 

“But what about Duchess Kryze?” 

“Satine and I have a…complicated history, but we found the only way to keep from killing each other is to remain friends and nothing more. The tabloids have a different spin on it.” Without looking at him, Obi-Wan said, “Did you really think I was fucking other people when you’re not around?” 

“I don’t know,” Rex said, which only made Obi-Wan glare. “We never talked about it. I assumed, and I shouldn’t have. I'm sorry for that.” 

Obi-Wan’s shoulders curved down and in. “I'm not the only one owed an apology. Anakin told me to be direct, but I thought we understood each other. No,” he corrected himself, “I preferred to avoid the conversation. That may surprise you, but I'm ill equipped for discussing emotions.” 

“I had noticed.” He reached for Obi-Wan, who allowed himself to be drawn closer. “I think we should talk, though.” 

He must not have sounded particularly enthusiastic because Obi-Wan smiled. “I do care about you. Quite a bit, in fact. It’s frightening, given the way the war is going.” 

“I'm not dead yet,” he said, but if Obi-Wan could be honest than so could Rex. “I'm worried I’ll damage your career.” 

For a moment Rex thought Obi-Wan would protest, but instead he stepped into the space Rex made for him between his knees. “We’re not Anakin and Padmé. We don’t face the same censure.” 

“I'm still a clone,” he pointed out gently. “The Republic—” 

“Doesn’t get a say in this.” Obi-Wan cupped his cheek, thumb tucked to the corner of Rex’s mouth. “We’re adult men of our species, and it’s our choice who we’re with. I'm not going to pretend this will be easy. There are always the tabloids to contend with, and there will be opposition that will try to use this to their advantage, but we’ve both survived worse than rumors and ill wishes.” 

“But the senate—” 

“Rex,” he interrupted. “Let me handle my colleagues. I want to be with you. I don’t know if there’s anyone—” 

“There’s not,” Rex blurted, clumsy. “I haven’t been—it’s just you.” 

“Only me?” Obi-Wan slid his hand to the nape of Rex’s neck. “Really?” 

He nodded. “Who else would there be?” 

“I'm certain there are several grateful civilians out there quite taken with you. I can’t blame them. I'm very taken with you.” 

Rex flushed. “There’s not.” 

“I didn’t mean to embarrass you.” He gave a wry smile. “Again.” 

“You didn’t,” Rex said, but of course he did. From the moment on Christophsis when Rex had brought R4 to him, her chrome casing scorched but intact, Obi-Wan had run gentle hands along her dome, and said, with a careful sincerity Rex hadn’t expected, “Thank you for keeping her safe,” Rex had been lost. 

“Good.” 

“If we’re being direct,” Rex added, settling his hands on Obi-Wan’s hips, “then I want to be with you, too.” 

Obi-Wan smiled. “Then we’ll figure out the rest.” 

Rex reached for the belt of Obi-Wan’s robe. “Did Skywalker really talk to you about me?” 

Obi-Wan grimaced. “He did.” 

“I don’t know how to feel about that,” Rex admitted. 

“If it helps, this is embarrassing for me. I’ve known him since he was ten, and he had the nerve to give me relationship advice.” 

“Correct relationship advice.” He tugged on the belt and the knot gave way. “That is deeply embarrassing for you.” 

Obi-Wan drew in a sharp breath as Rex pressed a kiss to his stomach. “Can we not talk about Anakin right now?” 

Rex glanced up. “Will the food keep?” 

“I don’t give a damn if it doesn’t,” Obi-Wan said, muscles trembling under Rex’s mouth. 

“Mm,” Rex agreed, and carefully bit down on the skin under Obi-Wan’s navel, the same place Obi-Wan had sucked a mark on him. “You said something about me having you in bed?” 

“Whatever you want,” Obi-Wan said, voice low and rough. 

“Turn off the stove.” 

Obi-Wan groped behind him with one hand, and he must have hit the switch because Rex heard the burner click off, and then he was pulling Rex up, mouth hot and insistent as he steered him back to the bedroom. 

They tripped over one another, trying and failing to smother their laughter as they bounced off various walls. 

“We have to be quiet,” Obi-Wan said. “I cannot face R4’s judgment if she finds us like this.” 

Rex pushed the robe off Obi-Wan’s shoulders. “Then move faster.” 

Obi-Wan locked the bedroom door behind them, although they both knew that would do little to stop a determined R4 if she really wanted in, but it would buy them time to at least cover up. Obi-Wan pulled Rex in by the belt as he backed towards the bed. 

“Wait,” Rex said, detouring to the chair to retrieve to retrieve the package from his uniform pants. 

“What is that?” Obi-Wan asked. He had arranged himself against the pillows, thumb pressing against the mark along his collarbone, and Rex’s mouth went dry. 

“It’s from Kix.” 

Obi-Wan held out one hand, and Rex obligingly passed over the package before shrugging out of the robe. “How thoughtful of him.” He shook out the condom and packet of lubricant. 

“Torrent may know about us,” Rex was forced to admit. 

“Rex,” Obi-Wan said seriously, “they’ve known since that first night.” 

Rex, unfortunately, was well aware of that; breakfast in the mess the next morning was one of the most uncomfortable ones he’d ever suffered through, which included the time he watched Skywalker eat an insect with every sign of enjoyment. 

“Does it bother you?” he asked. 

Obi-Wan drew him in. “No. We’ve nothing to be ashamed about. Now,” he added before Rex could remind him that public opinion was not of the same mind, “what was that about you having me?” 

“Pushy,” Rex said, as if he didn’t want too much now that he knew he could have Obi-Wan as Obi-Wan had him. 

They went slow, having already indulged the urgency the first time. They had all night to enjoy one another, and so there was no rush to the sweet drag of Obi-Wan’s mouth or the way Obi-Wan rolled the condom over his prick or how he sighed as Rex worked him open. 

He savored the sharp clench of Obi-Wan’s fingers on his shoulder as Rex rocked into him, and the press of Obi-Wan’s heel to his back, and the way Obi-Wan said, “Yes, like that,” when Rex found the right angle. 

His orgasm came too fast, and Rex pressed his face into Obi-Wan’s neck as he trembled through it. One day he may grow used to the way Obi-Wan pulled pleasure from him, slow and deliberate, but now it felt like the first time all over again, helpless but to follow where Obi-Wan led. 

Rex caught his breath and kissed him, languid even in the face of Obi-Wan’s flushed cheeks and the desperate press of his mouth. 

“I got you,” Rex said, and slid down to take Obi-Wan’s prick in his mouth. 

He was clumsier in this than he hoped, but he liked the weight of Obi-Wan’s cock and the way Obi-Wan gasped, “Rex,” and barely kept his hips from bucking. 

It didn’t take long, and Rex pulled off and stroked him as he came sharp and hot over Rex’s hand, all that lovely pale skin flushed red. 

“Come here,” Obi-Wan said after they cleaned up and turned the lights down low. Rex let himself be arranged how Obi-Wan wanted him, his back to Obi-Wan’s chest, Obi-Wan’s arm over his waist. “Let me know if it’s uncomfortable.” 

“No, it’s good,” Rex said, and relaxed into the embrace. The bed was still too soft, but Obi-Wan provided a firm support behind him. 

“Good. When are you meeting Anakin tomorrow?” 

“Not until the afternoon,” Rex said, surprised by the yawn that overtook him. 

Obi-Wan’s breathing was already slowing. “We’ll go to Dex’s for breakfast, then. I think you’ll like it.” 

Rex could see the morning stretching before him, the two of them out with R4 as their overprotective chaperone where anyone could see them and draw the correct conclusion. It could be frightening, if Rex let it, but Obi-Wan wanted this, and so Rex trusted him to have his back. 

“Yeah,” Rex said, on the edge of sleep as Obi-Wan kissed his shoulder, “I think I will.” 

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me over on [tumblr](http://dharmaavocado.tumblr.com/) and [pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.io/Dharmaavocado).


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